Silver Rose: Wings of a Hero
by Reno Spiegel
Summary: [Book Two] Within two years, a bond can form amongst a large group of people. In two seconds, an empire can fall. In just two books, you will feel his pain.
1. Tombstone Blues

Author's Note: Alright, so I posted early. I'll bet you hate me for that. You've just entered the second wave of Silver Rose madness, Wings of a Hero. Yes, that was from the "Hero" song by Chad Kroeger and Josey Scott, but, regardless, I'll bet you're just anxious to see what I have up for you this time around. Thanks, and now that you're here. . . Silver Rose 2: Wings of a Hero. ( Lyrics to "Tombstone Blues" are copyright (C) Bob Dylan. )  
  
Oh, and, here's a preview of the $7 Silver Rose sountrack, which will most likely be released in early 2004, unless summer holds a lot more writing time for me.  
  
Ellis Paul - "Sweet Mistakes"  
Dir en Grey - "Ain't Afraid to Die"  
Good Charlotte - "The Anthem"  
Styx - "Renegade"  
  
AND MORE. . .  
  
  
Silver Rose 2  
by Reno Spiegel  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
  
  
  
February 28, 3078  
Evening. Outside. Great Glacier. 6:24 P.M.  
  
"Hey. . .Punk." - Rude, Turk HQ  
  
  
Well, things aren't all peaches and cream around here. In the past two years, Aeris did indeed have a child -- a girl, and I lost twenty-five gil to her on that -- and everyone was given positions and full-fledged Turks. Cloud taught me sword-fighting to the point of where I could take him down in a spar, then stopped and let me take over. And thanks to help from Reno, I can, at will, extend or retract the mysterious wings.  
  
But then it all went downhill. We started fighting, over the smallest things. The budget, the condition of the place, who did what and when they needed to do it. Soon, it all fell apart and, after raiding the gun cabinet, we abandoned the old Turk Headquarters and ran off in separate directions. Of course, now if we see anyone we know, we try to get a clear shot and blow their heads off. So far, I've made it away without taking a shot. Aeris didn't even follow me, but neither did anyone else. Rude, Reno, Aeris, and Cloud are all somewhere out here, the second from last trying to keep our child warm.  
  
After so long, you start to build forts and hiding places, some even with snow-packed sniper towers. As for the condition of the others, I only know Reno's alive and out for my blood. Actually, he's right infront of me now. He's been here awhile. I can tell this by the bodies of Cloud and Rude on the ground, eyes closed and the evidence of being hit right infront of me.  
  
"Can't run anymore," he tells me. I shake my head. No running now, we need to finish this. Here and now, or else it'll never get done. "On three?" We're fair people, except when it comes, or rather, came, to the people we killed on the Turk missions. I nod and he holds up his weapon. I do the same with mine. "One. . ." We get ready, in our stances. "Two. . ." We wring out the cramps and itches really fast, to make sure we have full focus. "NOW!"  
  
Something cold and wet splashes over my head, and I swing around. Something from Reno's direction, cold and solid, hits me square in the back and I hear him shout.  
  
Okay, so maybe we're just a bunch of jackasses with nothing better to do on a day off than have snowball fights all evening.  
  
"Score! Thanks, Aeris. Cloud, Rude, game's over," he calls, and the two "bodies" stand up and wipe theirselves off. Aeris has an empty blue bucket and a mischevous grin on her face, so close to laughing it's barely funny.  
  
I wring my hair out as best as possible and reach back to wipe the remains of the snowball off my back. "Not cool, Aeris." Nonetheless, I grin and wrap my arms around her, then fall just right, to make sure she's thoroughly covered in some of the white stuff. "Guess you got her to sleep, but that's hardly fair." She shrugs and kisses me on the cheek, muttering something about wanting me to suck it up and deal with it. I rub my snowball in her face for that, and she bursts out laughing.  
  
Rude snorts. "You don't play fair either, Punk." My nickname. Two years and he's never gotten tired of calling me that. Truth of the matter is, though, I froze my snowballs the previous night one time, caught him in the head, and made a pretty big gash. Since then, we've been unsneakily "borrowing" some of Aeris' sewing cotton for padding, and we all look like blimps when we get out here. No Materia, powers, or mental tricks allowed, we all agreed. One Tongue of Jenova and he could put me twenty feet below the snow before I knew it.  
  
I roll my eyes and pat Aeris on the side before I help her up. "Yeah, but she's not supposed to be helping him," I whine. Over two years, we haven't changed a bit. Cloud, always the quiet one around. Rude, makes sure I'm insulted whenever he speaks. Reno, competing with me to be the big mouth of the house. Aeris, still near-innocent. Me. . .well, you know me by now, right?  
  
Reno comes up and hugs me from behind, one of those overly-tight ones that says, 'this is a joke,' and yells out, "We do it 'cause we love ya, Man!" I buck him over my shoulders, making sure he gets a mouthful of snow upon landing. He rolls over and stares straight at the sky for a few seconds. "Phone."  
  
He grins at me, and I hear the house phone ringing inside. Flopping over, Reno digs his foot into the snow and makes a mad dash for the door. As childish as it sounds, I'm already booking it for the ringing phone, but he can run a lot faster than I can.  
  
We'll see about that. Cheating again, it only takes a few moments for the wings to fly out and I'm airborne, flying faster than anyone could ever run, except maybe for some animals. They retract as soon as I hit the porch, and I skid across the newly-polished floor, windmilling my arms and sliding across on the "Welcome" mat, until I hit the far wall. By the time I get my bearings, Reno's finger is already over the speaker button. "Tongue of Jenova, I'm inside before you crash. Score Two!" He sticks his tongue out three-year-old like and presses the button.  
  
Not to be beaten, I launch up and tackle him away, then scramble back up and say, "Sephiroth, Turk Headquarters." I hold up a finger and Reno props himself up on his elbows, halfway between grinning and frowning.  
  
"The Fluke." It's Rufus ShinRa, whose father died in the middle of last year to lung cancer, who is one of my big rivals in the company. Actually, he's not so much a rival as he is a snotty, stuck up shithead, but there's really no difference to me. I roll my eyes and walk off, waving a hand at Reno and letting him know he can get it. Although Reno was appointed leader of the Turks, though, I've taken equal partnership with him, Rude stepping gladly to the side.  
  
For emergency reasons, a call on the speaker-phone is hooked up to a speaker in every room. So, naturally, walking through the house, I can hear every breath those two take. Even as I walk through the kitchen and toward the bedroom of Aeris and myself, with the crib in the corner, I hear they skip the introductions and get right down to it. Switching between Rufus and Reno, this is about how it goes:  
  
"Reno. . . Do you know what they say about the Old Elite Turks?"  
  
"They were all screwed over by someone related to Hojo?"  
  
I roll my eyes and lean softly on the crib. Inside, our daughter; she's going to have her mother's hair and her father's eyes, that was apparent within the first week. I hate to wonder what the combination of our attitudes is going to lead to in this case. Little Kline, the name surprisingly not chosen by me.  
  
"They came with a whisper, went out with a bang. What do you think they'll say about you?"  
  
"We were all screwed over by someone related to Hojo?" I hear the sound of his lighter. When he's stressed, he smokes. Or when he's worried and he knows what's about to happen. Silently, slowly, I cross the fingers on my left hand. Not today, not today, not today. . .  
  
"Reno, this is not the time for jokes."  
  
"Sorry, Sir." He's done for. As soon as Reno starts getting serious, Rufus has something big in mind.  
  
Not today, not today, God, not today. . .  
  
"They're already saying it, Reno. The five Turks: The Drunk, the Cetra, the Reject, the Cueball, and Spike." Reno, Aeris, myself, Rude, and Cloud, all lined up, preparing to be shot against the wall. Our last requests? To have someone resurrect Hojo so we don't have to deal with him up there.  
  
I start humming a song, which is a bad sign. When I'm stressed, I hum. Or smoke. But I can't smoke in this room, and if I move, it'll all turn bad, I can feel it.  
  
~Momma's in the factory,  
Ain't got no shoes.~  
  
"The New Elite Turks, you call yourself," Rufus goes on. I close my eyes. Today, today, it's going to be today, but it can't be today. "They'll know you as the Outcast Turks. The Outcast Turks that got the job done, but could never really cut it in the real world."  
  
Past tense.  
  
My daughter doesn't know it, but these three stars on my chest are for killing thirty people. Reno keeps his in a fold-out wallet. Twenty-seven in all, from ten years on the squad. Rude won't tell us how many kills he has. Cloud, just ten, because he's usually wandering around looking for things. Aeris, of course, doesn't have any. She's usually taking care of Kline. My humming gets louder.  
  
~Daddy's in the hallway,  
Lookin' for the fuse.~  
  
"If I didn't know better, Rufus, I'd say you were considering firing us." Reno's trying to build up a front. Not at Rufus, you moron. Rufus is a tough son of a bitch, and there's no way you'll overturn his rulings.  
  
Rufus laughs loudly, I cringe, and Kline shifts, still not awake. Not good, not good at all. Rufus doesn't laugh, Rufus isn't a happy person. "What ever gave you that idea, Reno?" I don't stop gripping my own elbows. There's a catch, I know. If I were calm, I'd be looking for my CDs and maybe even putting one on. I'm tight like a rubber-band.  
  
"No, I'm not considering firing you. In fact, I'm signing the papers to do so as we speak."  
  
~I'm in the kitchen,  
With the tombstone blues.~  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
When I'm depressed, I sleep in the basement with a leaky faucette and a washing machine that, if on for too long, will jump around in a five-foot circle. On a footstool, on the cold concrete floor, is a radio that can only pick up a single station -- AM, no less -- and ate one of our comedy tapes, so I can't play anything on it. Why do I come down here to sleep, then?  
  
Because in the basement, I can smoke and the cracked window sucks all of the smell right out, and I can think in all the peace you want if I flip the lock on the door.  
  
It must be a Turk thing; when we're nervous, we smoke, and when we're mad, we devastate.  
  
But right now, the door isn't locked, and Reno's standing in it. I can smell him in the dark; without a shower, smelling like cigarettes and alcohol, but still sobered up by the news of our being fired from the company. And now, he looks to me for guidance. "You know what you have to do, right?" he asks, quietly, slowly.  
  
The burning ash infront of me extends and flares for a moment with my pull, then dulls down to its original color and stays longer until I flick the ashes onto the floor, nodding at him after a moment. "Yeah, I know what I have to do. Believe me, it's going to have to be done."  
  
Reno walks back up the creaky stairs before I even start the second sentence, and I stub the cylindar out angrily, tossing the butt somewhere in the pitch-black room. I know what I have to do, and within a few months, I'm going to do it. Reno wants it, I want it. I know Cloud and Rude will back me up one-hundred percent if Reno okays it.  
  
Soon, I'll make the sacrifice.  
  
I wonder how my wife'll take it?  
  
  
Author's Note: To clear up the confusion if you have it, yes, I mean Aeris at the end there. 


	2. Master Plan

Author's Note: No soundtrack. Nope. Not until I can somehow try to make a movie out of this. Why? Because it's illegal to sell other peoples' songs. Thanks for letting me know, LS. Lawsuits could kill this family right now. Anyways, with the bad news out of the way. . . Email me to be put on the mailing list. I have a few members, but I'm wondering if I shouldn't just do like Athena did and get a Yahoo! Groups board.  
  
Author's Note 2: Alright. Someone emailed me the other day and told me that the plot to Book One was way too 'loose,' meaning it appeared I had no set direction to it. . . .Duhh! Of course I don't. I don't type these to show you how well my plot-twists are. I write these, honest to Hyne, to make you laugh and feel good for ten minutes a chapter. If anything, I'd classify this series as dark comedy. I never liked complicated plots, anyway.  
  
Author's Note 3: Wow, sorry for the wait. Just saying the character Dais is copyright (C) 2002-2003 Tim Maher. If you must know, the wait can be attributed partly to the death of my grandfather on Monday, who died of -- so far -- unknown causes. We're sending flowers, and the service is tomorrow, Thursday. So, because of the wait and this, I'll be cutting this one short. I apologize to the readers, and hope you understand my position.  
  
R.I.P., Bill.  
We all loved you.  
Silver Rose 2  
by Reno Spiegel  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
March 2, 3078  
Morning. Outside. Great Glacier. 8:50 A.M.  
  
"We smoke when we're mad. Classic bad-guy material." - Cloud Strife  
It's morning. One of our "contacts" had a few snowmobiles trucked out here and dropped off late last night, and we paid him quite well for doing so. It had been agreed early this morning, when no one could sleep, what the plan would be.  
  
Aeris, having to take care of Kline, would get a head-start on us with Cloud in the truck. She would stay with Elmyra when she got there, the two of us having come somewhat to an agreement since the wedding, and Cloud will stick around with her until we figure out the plan and relay it to him.  
  
Reno, Rude, and I will take the snowmobiles -- for the record, the only reason we're taking them at all is for drag-races across frozen lakes -- as far as we can, and then pick up the speedboat at the docks and head for Midgar.  
  
From there, we would go to Sector Seven, set up shop somewhere, and start our planning. The time of the sacrifice is nearing, and Reno, Rude, and I will most likely be on our own when we do it. Aeris and Cloud are already heading for Midgar. They'll park the truck on a larger ship, and ride to Midgar as well. We'll need a normal-looking getaway vehicle.  
  
But first, we need to find Dais again.  
  
Dais is another of our contacts we met in Midgar. He talks a lot, but he's not one who blurts something out without thinking, though the blue hair and 'Devil's Disciple' coat might lead you to think such. We've entrusted our weapon supplies to him, and so we'll need to find him to pull this off.  
  
I walk outside, bag over my shoulder, to see Reno already whipping shitties around our expired snowball zone. Rude is leaning lazily on his handlebars, and they've already started my craft. He gives me a two finger wave without even looking at me, and Reno rolls the snowmobile seconds later. I hear Rude mutter "Seven" as I lift my seat and stuff my bag inside. A gun, the Masamune, my Turk suit, and any other necessities.  
  
There are installed CD players in these machines, too. I'm sure it's no question as to who is screaming at the top of her lungs as soon as I sling myself onto the snowmobile. I almost regret what we did, killing her those years ago. I put on my helmet, on the same waves as the machine. One ear is Mako Dreams, the other is swearing from Reno about how bad his leg hurts now.  
  
"It's just the way you are, Dumbass," Rude growls, revving the engine and moving forward. I do the same with mine, but glance back a moment. Goodbye, Turk Headquarters, with your ditrty sinks, your hard water, your lumpy furniture and loose-tile floors. Your broken television, your sparking light, your might-work microwave. I actually think I might miss this place. Reno makes some idiotic retort and they both laugh it up.  
  
Dumbasses.  
  
I love 'em.  
  
"C'mon, you idiots," I chuckle at them, lifting my feet from the ground and gunning the engine. Reno follows suit as soon as I reach him, and Rude, having tweaked his motor early this morning, catches up in a few minutes. I can't concentrate, however, and turn the music down, asking either one of them, "So where do we find Dais, anyway?"  
  
Dais. Let me go a bit further into description. He's a wanderer, but if he can find a gil-paying job, he'll set up shop somewhere in the area. We only know he was born in either Junon or Midgar, so he has no house as far as we know. Rude met him in a bar. He has a reputation of being psychotic, because it's rumored the way his coat got down to just saying 'Devil' was that he tied his own hands together, sat in the back yard, and ate each of the extra letters while blindfolded.  
  
And if we ever ask him about it, he just shrugs, looks up, and quirks the edge of his lip.  
  
One crazy motherfucker, huh?  
  
Reno, swaying his machine for something to do as we barrel across the Glacier, has my answer. "I called him early this morning on his cell. Says he'll be able to wait around in Sector Four for about three days before he runs. So we'll have to find him quick, which, of course, won't be easy."  
  
Dais likes to run and hide. On any given day, he could be living under your porch eating rats and crumbs from dropped food. He hates to stay in one place for more than a day, because he's been messing with ShinRa's security all these years, picking one off with a rifle and then walking calmly off the roof to his next hiding point. Legend has it, Dais has killed fifty-three guards, the most anyone's taken out, even on full-frontal raids.  
  
Then again, with a wanderer like him, no one's quite sure what to believe, and besides, he could be fessing up to it just to look better. For now, though, I'm not putting it past that guy. "Gotcha there, Reno. One question, though. I know we're giving up the Turks, but what are we doing, going to Midgar?"  
  
I get a long silence, one somewhere between him dreading even telling me and not wanting to say it at all. Eventually, though, he tells me. "I'm not bullshitting you, Seph. We're going to Midgar to kill Rufus ShinRa." 


	3. Low Profile Work

Author's Note: Wowee. I'm getting to be one lazy sonofabitch. Well, actually, just busy. If you forgot to check it, there's a chapter/author's note before this that you need to read, and so no one has to ask, we will not be seeing Cloud and Aeris. This is from Sephiroth's point of view, and so we will follow only Sephiroth. I need to know now, though, if you people are up for waiting for updates? Like I said. . .I'm lazy. Remember, Kiddies. Shop smart. Shop S-Mart. ( By the way, the sacrifice was shedding the Turk name to kill Rufus. No big secret. )  
Silver Rose 2  
by Reno Spiegel  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
March 4, 3078  
Evening. Gates. Sector Four. 5:19 P.M.  
  
"How 'bout some sing alongs?"  
"I'll snap your neck." - Reno and Sephiroth, Sector Four  
It took us a few days to get all the way to Midgar's Sector Four, and that was with one major problem: Reno somehow tipped his machine again and flooded the engine. After quite the debate, Rude decided he would take the drinks away for the rest of the ride and we waited in one of the tents he had packed for the craft to sort itself out.  
  
Ever the clowns we are, especially in these situations.  
  
Now we're twiddling our thumbs, sitting at the gates of Sector Four, because someone tipped Rufus off that we would be in town for a few days, and he met us here. I can't even begin to wonder who's tapping our lines now, but he's going to be hurting soon. Rufus, like I said, showed up here and dragged Reno off to have a meeting with him. The two of us were left to sit in the office of the man who runs the gates. Rude is sitting next to me, sipping coffee and reading the Daily Midgar Times, while I tap my foot and glance around angrily.  
  
It's hard to sit here and not wonder where Aeris is and if she made it here alright. I wish she had a phone, that way I could call her.  
  
Rude glances at me. I stare hard at him, capturing his gaze and not letting him look away. People tell me I have magnificent eyes, the kind that are too beautiful and frightening to look away from. By this time, they're leaning in a bit too close and I pop them one in the jaw. "What?"  
  
He half-smirks at me, shakes his head, and somewhat fluffs the paper before folding it and putting it inside his suit. "Young love. Nervous as hell, worrying about your wife. I miss those days."  
  
'I miss those days'? So, he was. . . "You were. . ." I would've never expected it from him. "Married?"  
  
He nods as he tells me, "Three years, and I'll be we would've been together for many to come, but I gave it up to come into the Turks. She understood. Hell, if you come from Midgar, you'll know that, if you're offered even a shit job at ShinRa, you drop everything and leave. I suppose I'll go back and find her when this is all over. Said she'd wait for me, anyway."  
  
I can tell by his voice that he knows she's already run off to some remote town with three kids and a new husband, probably one who has nothing to do with ShinRa and runs an honest business. The kinda guy that wears his name on his shirt and asks if someone found everything they needed at least ten times a day. The kind of person I used to be, in Icicle Inn.  
  
Rude reaches up and fiddles with one of his earrings, spinning it around, and then picks the paper back up. About this time, the door opens and a few more people come in, walk to the desk, talk with the Gate operator, and walk right out. I count, as the third walks out, eighteen people that have passed since we'd run into Rufus. Enough for me to know something's gone wrong, but Rude still looks unfazed. I ask him, "You don't think anything happened, do you?"  
  
He smiles. "You sound like a woman." Gee, thanks. "No, nothing's happened. Rufus always took this long to meet with us. If anything happens, Reno has my number, anyway." As if to reassure me, he taps the phone on his belt and goes back to reading about how three Junon kids were locked in a basement by a robber, who then turned the gas on and left the house, dropping off a time-bomb behind him. No one ever caught him, or her, really, and there's a funeral service with a speech by Mayor Domino next Friday. They're giving it a week so he can spruce up and have someone write said speech, I'm sure.  
  
When you're an ex-Turk, you know the slimy underlayer of ShinRa business.  
  
I stand up and walk to the window, looking out. They have artificial lighting, of course, attached to the Plate. It shines down beams through the holes in the buildings, with their broken doorframes and boarded-up windows, while a few gang-boys walk around, trying to look cool. There are no plants in this area, not like there were in Aeris' church -- truly, I've never before seen a sight like that. The shops are run by orphans while their fatass employer lays around eating cookies and starving them. One of the men down the street whips his workers if they can't make a hundred gil a day, then gives a fat bribe roll to the regular Force -- police -- to look the other way and go buy some illegal drugs.  
  
And don't even get me started on Don Corneo.  
  
The door opens, and I can tell right away it's Reno. Whenever he walks in, he throws the door open, but this one, attached to heavy-duty springs, swings back and smacks him in the face, something I catch just as I turn around. Rude takes another drink of his coffee and folds the paper, putting it inside his suit, then stands up and looks expectantly at our "leader."  
  
Reno, a red mark on his forehead, looks pissed to see me so amused, and throws a bag at me, then one to the bald man across the room. "Rufus just asked what we were doing here and gave me our last pay." I remember my last pay, from working in the cafeteria. "But don't go spending all of it in one place."  
  
Rude hangs his head and mutters something about an espresso machine add-on for his snowmobile. I snap my fingers without missing a beat. "Dammit, Reno, and I wanted a prize cactus for the kitchen." He shakes his head and calls us both morons. "Really, though, why save it? We have weapons, we have transport. . ."  
  
I feel like the newbie when even Rude snorts. But Reno keys me in. "Dais is a mercenary. I called him up on the walk back over and he says he'll need at least five-thousand to help us, maybe extra if he has to get his hands dirty. And if they print him and lock him up, I agreed we'd pay his bail one way or another. Trust me, it'll be high."  
  
I have to sigh. Five-thousand plus, and bail if it comes to that? I remember him being much more lenient when we were real ShinRa, but I guess that's just the way it goes. "So, we go, pick up Dais, get a night's rest, and do this in the morning."  
  
"You're nuts," Reno grumbles, then shakes his head and says, slowly, as if talking to a child, "We're going to need a week or two of planning, Seph'. Rufus gave us our last pay, and that's a signal for, 'If I see you again, I'll stab you with this pen.' We're gonna need to sneak in, get all the way to the top, kill Rufus, and get the hell out of Midgar in a single day. Not only will we need to keep low-profile, we'll need to drop Dais off, and then the boat ride gives 'em plenty of opportunity to nab us once we hop on. Unle --"  
  
Rude pops him one in the shoulder and jerks his thumb to the side of us. The old man who runs the Gates is standing there, eyes wide, with one hand on the receiver of his cordless phone. The color has gone out of his face, and his teeth are chattering, he's so scared. I'm about to give him my bag of gil when Rude's pistol comes out and delivers a single shot to the guy's forehead.  
  
Low-profile my fucking ass. We're obvious and stupid.  
  
About this time, I realize he's already run out the door, and Reno grabs my shirt as a start, then lets me go and takes off after him. As always, we get some odd looks as we power down the littered streets and dart into an alley, keeping a not-too-slow pace until we're sure we've gotten far enough lost to be hidden.  
  
It's not unusual that Reno pants for a moment, then stands back up and tries to finish his train of thought. When Rude does something, you don't question it. Rude is right and there's no other way to put it. We were looking for a fifth Turk once, and a rookie came in the spar with me for the position. I swung hard enough with the Masamune that it imbedded into his rifle, and he decided to yell at me and demand I pay for the damages.  
  
Rude held his face on that stove so long, when we buried him, his eyelids were melted so well with the eyeballs that you could catch a flash of blueish green in the right light.  
  
Good times.  
  
"Alright, Seph'." Rude's cut into the rambling of Reno's that I paid no attention to. "You lived here, you know people, right? We need men and women who can do something. Seein's how we're from Junon, we can't do squat. Know anybody?"  
  
I think, after awhile with these two, something has to snap in your brain. The first time this occurs to me is now, when two names buzz loudly in my ears and I give off a sinister smirk that Reno looks uncomfortable with. "I can name two right off the bat. And I owe one of 'em a favor."  
Author's Note: Alright, since I'm dying to update and I know you all hate cliffhangers. . .here's the end of Chapter Three! Muaha. Well, I won't be updating very frequently, as you can probably tell, until school lightens up on me and shit. Well, as for those two people. . .I'll give you electro-candy if you can name 'em. 


	4. Reunion

Author's Note: Well, it's just another update no one'll glance at. Is SR dying? Shit. And as for the periods between lines, it's so the formatting doesn't get all clusterfucked like the last two.  
.  
Author's Note 2: I have a sudden urge to write on this a lot! Rejoice!  
.  
.  
Silver Rose 2  
by Reno Spiegel  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
.  
.  
.  
March 5, 3078  
Morning. Stoop. Sector Seven. 7:32 A.M.  
.  
"We need help. And we need it fast. Believe me, as soon as I repay this favor to you, I'll be out of your hair for good this time." Sephiroth  
.  
.  
I'm sitting infront of a rundown building, probably filled with whores and thugs, tapping the Masamune on the ground. I do this not so people know I'm lethal, but so people know they should keep walking and mind their own business. There is a reason I'm sitting here, looking around casually with a nine-foot sword infront of me, and that's to meet one of my contacts.  
  
"Spare a gil?"  
  
And there he is. I turn to see a man, standing tall and looking like a complete bum. He smells like sewer water, and his clothes are next to rags. He's pushing a shopping cart filled with car parts. I shake my head and grin at him. "You look like shit in those clothes, y'know."  
  
"Yeah, I know, but I'm on a lead. Rumor has it you're finally back to repay the favor." The bum sits down next to me and tosses a greasy banana peel at me. Cute. Real cute. He chuckles. "Mind puttin' that in your pocket? You look like shit with it in your lap."  
  
I lay down the Masamune, toss the peel into the street, pull a folder out of my trench, one of two identical that are in there, and hand it to him. The entire layout of the ShinRa Building. All seventy floors, air ducts, and security listings. Not to mention sticky notes telling how our rough draft of planning is going to go. "Should be all you need for now, but I'm going to need to pull you off work next week for awhile. As long as it takes to pull this off. That gonna work?"  
  
"Hell, man, you're an ex-Turk. The Force won't even glance at me twice when I ask." Relief hits me. I had a feeling we could have a problem pulling him out of work, but I guess not. "Well, while we've got a few minutes, how about you let me in on why you stopped working at the firm."  
  
Turner whistles long, then shakes his head. "'Member the case I handled for you?" I nod. "Apparently, it's not legal in Midgar to represent someone if they're your friend. They think something illegal'll happen, only God knows what. So, Miklen got wind of it and kicked me off, under orders of Rufus. Then I just joined the Force in his department, so I still help him with the cases and we still work together. Of course, couldn't join as Rolan, 'cause of the firm name, y'know?"  
  
"I catch your drift. So, what do I call you?" I watch half-interested as a rat scurries over, sniffs the banana peel, then picks it up in its mouth and runs off.  
  
"Cero Kisaragi."  
  
"As in, relative of Godo Kisaragi of Wutai." My interest is piqued. Turner is nowhere near Wutain. He even speaks with a city drawl, not petitely like a Kisaragi would.  
  
He jabs a thumb at me. "Quick little bugger since you turned Turk, eh? I'm his sister's third cousin, if anyone asks. Pay Godo enough and you could get him to call you his father. Now, apparently I'm supposed to be on duty right now. Good to see you, but, ah," he grunts as he stands up, walking over to his cart. "Gotta run."  
  
He turns his back to me and starts down the street before I call out after him. "Hey, Cero!"  
  
He peers over his shoulder. "Eh?"  
  
"What exactly was the favor you paid me?" I was drunk at the time, and I don't remember. He's never told me, and is keeping me waiting.  
  
He just winks at me and keeps on walking.  
  
Moron.  
-=-=-=-  
The door slides open, a mechanical clicking following it every half-second. Metal grinds on metal and then there's a faint pop when it reaches the end of its journey. I see the back of a man seated at a hard-wood table. His hair, white and falling out, is done back as neatly as possible and I can see a wide grin on his face from here.  
  
Seeing as how my friend is a "relative" of Godo, and we're a group of three ex-Turks with business, the thirty-million gil bail was lowered immensely. With a glare from Rude, we're taking him out for just under eight-thousand. For the past two years, everytime I come to Midgar on business or pleasure, I come to see Mark Baley, the "psycho" at the institution. I now know, you only call someone psychotic if you only get half the story.  
  
Over the past years, to put it short, we've exchanged many stories. Back in the building of Fort Condor, apparently, he and Hojo had worked together on the layout. I promised him, someday, we would come and take him out legally. And here we are, Reno, Rude, and I. His eyes are wide, now seeing for the first time today what he hasn't seen in ten years. He's wearing casual clothes, no more inmate suits. I pat him on the shoulder silently. He stands up, nods firmly, and follows us out. I know why the air is so uneasy. Just after the ShinRa incident, I had come back and told him all that had happened.  
  
"So. . .that SOLDIER you killed, he was protecting Hojo?" he had asked, slowly.  
  
I had shrugged. "I can only assume. And he seemed intent on killing me and Aeris."  
  
"Do me a favor, Sephiroth?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
He had looked right at me, even from behind his patched up eyes. "Being as how my you killed my son for almost doing something I would have never wanted to hear about. . .when you go to do the "job," y'know. Take me with you."  
  
And nothing else had been said that day. We knew there would be a small barrier to work around, that was no secret. But now, as we finally step out into the dirty air of Midgar, eyes fixed on the large billboard. Rufus' profile on it, and in big, italic white letters it reads, "Support ShinRa, the Foundation of Midgar." You live above them and then tell them to support you while you can't even clean up the litter. Selfish bastard.  
  
Reno walks over, opens the door to the Turk van, and hops in. Rude opens the back and summons Mark over. They get in. Rude will fill Mark in on the way back to the "base," which is really an underground restroom we labelled "Out of Order" and set our stuff up in. The janitor had walked in during one of our sessions. Reno had leapt up, shoved a wad of gil directly into his mouth, and slammed the door on him.  
  
I stare at Rufus for a moment more. Then I flip off the giant poster and hop into the passenger side. The ride through the sector is silent, except for Rude's voice once in awhile drifting up here. Mark is a fast-learner, and even in his old age he has the memory of a computer database. We pull down a ramp in Sector Four and into a parking garage only we use.  
  
Reno pulls into the handicap spots and mutters "Fuckin' cripples" everytime.  
  
We head toward the bathroom immediately. If anyone saw us come down here, they know something's up and we need to keep ourselves hidden. Rude helps Mark out of the truck and across the garage. As soon as we're in said bathroom, we turn and deadbolt the lock. Dais, the Devil himself, is sitting at the card table we have set up, staring at the top of it like a man possessed. Which, as far as we know, he is these days.  
  
"Took you long enough." We don't even reply. Dais is one you don't speak back to. He has an idea, you let him run with it. You have a problem with it, you have a hole in your head. We took a sledgehammer to the wall between the men and women's restrooms. Now it's a large room with leaky faucets, grimy tiles, and boarded-up holes in the ceiling. Mark takes a seat, as does Rude. The second opens his newspaper, as always. Reno draws his weapon and taps it on the wall, ready for some unknown intruder.  
  
"Alright," Reno begins. "I can't give you full details of the plan until Turner Rolan gets here tomorrow, but I can tell you the gist of it. We're going to take out all of ShinRa Incorporated in one easy swipe, and hopefully have our asses back to the Great Glacier before they know what hit 'em. We're all a very talented group of dumbshits here, y'know. We can make this work, even if we don't have an army behind us. We know security, we have layouts, and we have the Force bribed just enough to get away with some minor things. Any questions?"  
  
There's a creaking above us. One boarded hole suddenly gives and a body falls into one of the stalls of the ex-women's bathroom. The door swings shut with a bang and locks. We wait a few seconds. Suddenly, the sound of a fight comes out to us, punches and all. Moron is beating himself up.  
  
I'm about to go over, open it up, and give him a swipe of my sword, but two gunshots blast through the door to the stall. Silence. A heavy thud into the toilet bowel and then a flush makes everyone but Dais look puzzled as all hell. The door clicks to unlocked and Reno and I rush over. We're about to let whoever the second body that came from nowhere was have it, but the door swings open and we see a confusing sight.  
  
Guy Who Fell From Ceiling has been shot through the chest and has his head in the toilet bowel, crushed under the seat. But then, there stands Jinaisim with his gun, drying his hand and it off with a paper towel and looking very pissed. "Bastard blew the surprise."  
  
Reno cracks him one in the knee with the mag-rod.  
  
Fucking morons. 


	5. Tragedy

Author's Note: Well, I pumped this entire chapter out waiting for my Live Gackt videos to download. So, if you download any video labelled [LIVE/TV/PV] (Song) by Gackt from ::DeathofSeasons::@kazaa.com on KaZaA, give me a hollar.   
  
.  
  
Silver Rose 2  
  
by Reno Spiegel  
  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
March 7, 3078  
  
Night. Stairway. ShinRa Building. 11:47 P.M.  
  
.  
  
"I wonder if they know we're here yet. . ." Rude  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Two days ago, Jinaisim beat the holy shit out of the guy checking to see if our bathroom was operational. He'd freaked when he'd dropped into the stall, and gone into his set mode of killing. Given the fact that bathroom hadn't been checked in years, according to the state of it, we didn't bother to hide the body or anything, just threw it outside under the parking ramp. Also because of that, we decided not to worry about hiding ourselves; no one from headquarters would come to look for him, just report him missing and fired.  
  
Jinaisim Makau, as you know, is the former husband of the late Kala Makau of Mako Dreams, killed in a "freak accident" involving all but two of the people with us. He's been our outside/inside contact for these past two years, and, as Turner did, took off work at ShinRa to come help us. Working on the inside, on our team.  
  
We're sitting on the steps of the ShinRa building, you know the ones off to the left of the main entrance that go almost to the top? Mark had to stop twenty floors up, understandably, and catch his breath. After that, he managed to struggle the rest of the way up with little hassle. Dais is in the main office, keeping them occupied with questions, dressed as a respected businessman from Icicle Inn.  
  
We're here tonight to set up the main bombs.  
  
I lick my lips nervously and look around. Reno is, as quietly as possible, knocking chips out of the wall so we can insert one of the smaller bombs into it. No one uses these stairs for actual business, only if they need a second way up, and even then they're not too worried about being observant, so we don't feel we'll have any problems with it. Rude is outside keeping watch, standing in his usual Turk position in his suit so he doesn't look suspicious. Mark is watching with some morbid interest, Reno's setting the explosives, and I'm making sure all of our equipment for the actual mission is in working order.  
  
Surprisingly, Reno can plan an escape.  
  
He stands up abruptly and snaps shut the briefcase he had been carrying the crystal explosives in, brushing himself off and looking at me expectantly. "Everything check out? Last thing we need's for some dumbass like me to botch this and give the rest of you non-working grappling hooks."  
  
I give him a thumbs-up and put the hook I'd just been checking back in the bag I'd brought along, picking the Masamune up next. "All checks out. If we're quick about this, we could have it all done in a week, tops."  
  
Speak of trouble, the door about a floor up slams open and hurried footsteps quickly carry a line of SOLDIERS into our eyesight. "Goddammit," I hiss, getting into my stance. The first looks nervous, and pauses for a moment, as if looking for guidance. I solve it for him, impaling him on the sword and pulling it back out in the flick of a wrist. He falls down the stairs silently, thudding until he hits the next landing down. Someone must have tipped them off we were here.  
  
It's about this time that it all gets blown to hell. Someone from the back lines throws a deformed grenade at us, and I soon recognize it as a teargas grenade. They blind you for long enough, and then it explodes. It must have been some really dumb SOLDIER, because a blast like that could collapse the entire staircase.  
  
I sidestep to the right and throw myself over the railing, plummeting down at a speed that kids joke about when they say you could throw a gil from such height and it could plant into the concrete. Something tells me it might kill a person, too. I hear Reno call them jackasses and jump down after me. About two floors from the bottom, the wings unfurl from my shoulders and I sharply pull into a glide out the wide door.  
  
Rude is outside, running for the van and firing behind him. He's also being chased by SOLDIERs. Dais is already in the van, the engine sputtering started as I glide. Reno's floating beside me, watching it as I am, but always checking behind him for reinforcements. Rude reaches the van before us and throws the side door on the back open. Reno and I crash inside, then he knocks it shut with a useful Murney de Pantra.  
  
Dais guns it and we spin out for a moment before hauling it down the stairs and onto the train tracks. The Sector Seven train is out of order for a week or so for repairs, so it works out nicely. We reinforced the van, and all we hear when we're shot is a soft ping noise.  
  
Then comes the blast.  
  
The entire Plate Top is lit up by it. First goes the grenade they had thrown, blowing a large hole in the staircase by itself. There's a moment of silence before Jinaisim, sitting all the way in the back of the van, presses the detonator with a nod from our leader, the red-haired Jenova-Cetra. With the explosive mixture they put in their teargas, the three explosives we'd put on one level completely obliterate the staircase, leaving it barely recognizeable. Then the second charges go off, taking out the bottom of it.  
  
Many of the windows, after we sit there in silence for awhile looking at our work, are shattered. More are falling out from the heat every second. We estimated eighty-some casualties if we'd done it after-hours, and I stay with that guess. There are giant holes in the building itself.  
  
Reno's explosives pack a fuck of a punch.  
  
I'm looking over our accomplishment with some sick fascination. I didn't want to kill all those people, did I? No, I just wanted to be a Turk to support my family. But now -- "Whoa."  
  
Dais smirks back at me, nodding. "Fright is a lock. Destruction is the key. Insert and turn and you open your door to freedom. Buck up and realize you're one step closer to freedom." He turns back around and lights up a cigarette. That's all he needs to say, he figures. With Dais, destruction is the skeleton key. You can get out of anything with a little homicide.  
  
Something clicks in the back of my head. I rush to the back, climbing over Jinaisim, and throw the back doors open. Fuck being seen. I stare in horror back to the ShinRa Building.  
  
"MAARRK!!!!"  
  
I don't think I've ever screamed louder...  
  
.  
  
.  
  
-=-=-=-  
  
.  
  
.  
  
March 8, 3078. Mark Baley, eighty-seven, died early this morning as a result of someone ratting out three ex-Turks, a mercenary, and two ShinRa workers. We were forced to blow our cover way too soon. We could stop now and go out with a blast like that, but we still have a problem: Rufus is alive and combing the city for us.  
  
As a result, we now have to make our action quick. If we give him enough time to search and actually find us, we might as well turn ourselves right in. We're riding back to the bathroom in silence. Mostly, anyway. Rude and Jinaisim and playing a slow game of cards. Reno is driving in silence, and I'm glaring out the window. We've just been driving around aimlessly on the tracks for an hour or two. Dais is actually riding atop the van, doing whatever it is he does.  
  
I had come, in the past two years, to the point where going to that asylum was like going to a nursing home to see my father. Now, I've lost both fathers...  
  
We pull up to the parking garage. We're all slow to get out, except for Dais. He jumps off the top and strides in quite quickly. Reno and I don't even get out. We sit there for a few minutes in that deep, dark silence, then Reno puts it into Drive and spins back toward Sector Seven. I don't bother to ask where he's going, because I really don't care. I had promised Mark that I would let him have his moment, and I failed him.  
  
No, whoever ratted us out failed him.  
  
I'm about to ask Reno if he knows anything about it, but I guess I somehow dozed off in my thinking, and we're parked outside Elmyra's house. My car is parked here, too. Can't say I'm surprised, but can't say I knew about it, either. There's no rusty old truck, so apparently Cloud and Aeris aren't here. I can't see why Reno brought us here.  
  
My fist clenches at the thought as I pull myself out of the van. I told Cloud very clearly that if he did anything, I would personally kill him, and I meant it. He seemed sincere when he told me he'd keep to that promise, and I hope it stays that way. Otherwise, he'll have some talking to do.  
  
I pass Reno up somewhere between the van and the house, so I'm the first to the door. Reno makes no move to open it for me. There's something not right about this whole thing.  
  
Then again, I'm always saying that, aren't I?  
  
I rattle the knob for a moment, testing it to make sure it's real, then throw the door open. The next thing I know, I'm seeing the floor and feeling a severe pain on the back of my head. But then I'm fine, and I spin around to see a bucket on its side, water around it.  
  
Pfft. Old trick.  
  
Elmyra, when I turn around, winces. "Sorry, Sephiroth. It came down on your neck. Are you alright?"  
  
She's never seemed this concerned for me, but then again, I haven't seen her since the wedding. I rub the back of my neck and nod. I don't see how it could have come down without me at least catching a splash off of it, but I suppose Reno might have seen it and redirected it, just bashing me on the neck for fun. I glance behind me. No Reno. I turn back around, and he's sitting in a chair, sipping coffee.  
  
What the. . .?  
  
Elmyra laughs. "Poor Seph. That must have stunned you pretty badly. You just stared straight ahead for about three minutes. Come, sit down. Have some tea or coffee, will you?"  
  
Why does she sound so fake? I wonder this as I sit down and mutter "Tea." I rub my neck again. It's already forming into a welt. I'm having one of those periods, you know, where everything just feels like a dream and you're not actually sitting there. Mark once told me it was because one of the thousands of flashing dreams I'd had the last night predicted this, and it's like an odd déja vue.  
  
I miss Mark already.  
  
She has my tea ready in about a minute, then we all sit in some unconsciously agreed silence before Reno sits up. "You probably heard, we hit a little roadblock earlier this morning." It's now I realize it's extremely early, yet Elmyra's awake. I think I remember her picking up a night job, though. "If Aeris didn't call and tell you, you saw it on the news. Someone ratted us out, and it resulted in one of our men dying and another leaving to work on the case of who we were." Rolan, I think immediately. "This means we're down to five people on my end and two on yours. Sephiroth and I agreed, we don't want Aeris or Kline involved in this." Elmyra glances at me, and I nod sternly. My wife won't turn out like Mark. Kline's probably upstairs sleeping, but I can't go talk to her; never know who might come in when I'm away.  
  
"ShinRa's got our asses if we even show our faces around the city. I doubt we could drive back to the meeter" -- what we call the bathroom we use for our rendezvous point -- "without getting picked up. But that's not the point. The point is, even with Cloud, we need at least two more people, and you have all the connections around here. Dais has agreed to pay half his own bail if we get caught, so we have extra gil. Three-thousand extra, to be exact. Do you think, if we payed you a thousand a person, you could find three guys willing and brute enough to help us out here?"  
  
The old woman's face wrinkles even worse now, and she paces for a moment. We told Elmyra all about the plan when we'd first thought it up, and she had a list of names before, but now she doesn't look so sure. I'm convinced they're her friends and she doesn't want them to end up like Mark because of some dumbass ratting us. Protective of her friends. Protective of my wife.  
  
But then she pulled a crinkled piece of paper from her apron pocket and hands it to Reno. "That's the address to the nightclub I was telling you about. Be careful how you get there. One, there's ShinRa spies all over the place on any given night, and two, it's rough territory." I mentally get the address from Reno.  
  
Hellion turf.  
  
"The main bouncer is the son of one of my friends down the road, and the drummer for the band playing tomorrow night is rumored to be an ex-convict. Both of them agreed before that they would be willing to help topple ShinRa when I asked them, so talk to them separately tomorrow night, around midnight. It opens then, and if you're lucky, you can catch the band before they go on. If not, it's a two-hour show, so you have quite the window for mistake," she tells us, slowly and calmly, but she's wringing her hands by her sides.  
  
I stand up and put my hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Elmyra. No one's going to link it back to you, the bad side of ShinRa won't come here again. If a man from ShinRa named Turner Rolan ever stops in, though, he's on our side. Out inside informant." Reno nods and puts the paper into his pocket.  
  
Elmyra hardly looks convinced, but I know she trusts me to some extent now. "I believe you, Sephiroth. Just. . .don't go out and get hurt. I don't know what Aeris would do without you. Either of you." She glances at Reno. It's no secret she puts more faith in him than she does me. I'll live with it. "By the way, Aeris and Cloud are staying at the big hotel in Sector Eight. I'm sure they would appreciate it if you stopped over tonight."  
  
The red-haired man nods, and we give our good-byes. She shakes his hand firmly, and hugs me as we walk out the door. She also throws me my keys. I hop in the car and smirk. If not for Mark, I could almost be happy tonight. I turn it on and follow Reno out to the tunnel running around the city, the one I haven't driven in for quite a while. I put on the music just for the nostalgic feel. Mako Dreams blaring through the speakers of the only car with an MKO-DRMS license plate.  
  
I think twice and turn the radio on. I hear the whine of the AM radio tuning itself in -- I'm a big fan of late-night talk shows -- and then a jumbled mess of speaking. Then comes a slam and I realize it might be live feed from somewhere. "I told you already, this act will not go without punishment! I'm tired of answering that question, frankly!" Oh, God. Heideggar, recruiter for the Turks. "If I had any choice, I'd star -- Oh! President ShinRa!"  
  
There's some kind of fanfare that I chuckle at, then Rufus' raspy voice silences them all. "That will be enough, Heideggar. As on official order from myself, the city of Midgar is on lockdown for seventy-two hours. Starting an hour from now, anyone wandering without purpose from ten P.M. to six A.M. will be picked up by a ShinRa officer and put in a holding cell until the eleventh of this month or until we feel the threat is over with. I will be taking no questions. I recommend you all leave before the lockdown begins."  
  
The reporters explode into questions anyway, even while Heideggar screams at them to shut the hell up. I shut the radio off. We're about ten minutes from the hotel still, so I put it on auto-drive and lean back in the seat, driving with one hand on the wheel and the second rubbing my face. It's been a hellish night. Hopefully it won't get any worse.  
  
I try to erase that thought, because I know if I'm hoping for that, something awful will happen. We pull up to the hotel a few minutes later, and we stride inside with this subtle quickness. Reno asks the lady at the desk for the rooms of Aeris and Cloud.  
  
She reports them to be in two-twelve and two-eleven, Cloud in the latter, Aeris in the former. We ride the elevator to the second floor. It's the largest hotel in Midgar, so there are a hundred rooms on each floor, seven floors total. Our hotels don't get too big otherwise, but I'm just relieved they chose two separate rooms.  
  
But my face changes to one of horror as soon as we reach those two rooms. Two-eleven is fine and in order from the outside. I hear snoring behind the door, meaning Cloud is alive and well.  
  
But two-twelve's door is barely hanging on, and everything in the room has been somehow disrupted. I would call it a practical joke if I didn't see blood smeared on the far wall and note the window broken.  
  
Reno backs up against the far wall of the hallway, then runs forward and slams into Cloud's room by kicking it with all he has. Cloud rockets out of bed, I hear it from here, and crashes to the floor. Reno starts screaming at him, asking where Aeris is, but in a moment the spikey-haired man, clad only in loose pants, rushes into the hallway. He barges past me into her room and keeps sputtering about how he doesn't know what could have happened.  
  
Too late now, I think, shaking my head slowly. I don't know it now, but I'm shuddering madly, too. In the next few minutes, we're down in the lobby, Cloud still shirtless and getting odd looks from anyone who passes. Reno taps his temple and shakes his head. "Sephiroth, we're going to have to leave the recruiting to you." I look appalled, but he silences me with a finger, speaking softly with his back to the camera in the corner. "They know you're out to get ShinRa, you have been for awhile. Cloud here is completely innocent, and I'm only questionable. Besides, I have a hunch who did this anyway. I'll send Dais over in the morning to wake you up. You'll go out, have a normal day, and then you'll go meet our friends at the night club. Okay?"  
  
But there's no room for a refusal in his tone. Basically, he's telling me I'm going to do it or there will be problems. I nod slowly, turn, and walk back toward the elevator. I hear them walk out the front. I'll be awake all night, sitting on the bed in Cloud's room, trying to think of what I can do. Eventually, I'll probably give up and go read a book.  
  
Either way, it's a fucked-up situation. 


	6. Fire In The Sky

Author's Note: Spike Highwind, thanks for the motivation. It'll get me working, don't worry about that. I appreciate the reviews, solely for the fact that I know not everyone has given up on me just yet, despite how much I've been neglecting this. No matter; my main focus right now is Silver Rose. It's likely this will be a long story, but if anyone wants me to end it soon, let me know.  
  
.  
  
Author's Note 2: As uncaring as I may seem, I ask everyone to observe a request. Take a moment out of your day, now or later, and pay respects to the love-song legend Barry White, who passed away on July 4, 2003, due to kidney failures, at the age of fifty-nine. Being the mildly-closet White fan I am, I dedicate the rest of this story to him. Rest in peace.  
  
.  
  
Silver Rose 2  
  
by Reno Spiegel  
  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
March 7, 3078  
  
Afternoon. Food Court. Midgar Shopping Mall. 12:11 P.M.  
  
.  
  
"Elmyra's son-in-law? Well, I suppose I should listen. . ." Keeve, Hellfire  
  
.  
  
.  
  
"Death By Doctor  
  
This morning, tragedy struck in the Junon laboratory,   
  
as the computers decided to rebel. Upon walking into   
  
the office of Professor Gast, his secretary dropped her   
  
coffee and dialed the police. When they arrived, they  
  
found Gast, speaker cords wrapped around his neck,   
  
dead, with the words 'BUZZ OFF' stamped into his fore-  
  
head by the keyboard. On the screen, they noticed the   
  
flickering screensaver -- Hojo Novehar with his center   
  
finger raised. Police are still looking for suspects."  
  
Amazing what I can write when cooped up, even so out of practice. I'm not entirely sure why, but I have an urge to rewind time and end my father's life like that. Dais came and woke me up, as Reno had promised, and we stuck around the hotel room to discuss the agenda of the day for about an hour. Then, deciding I was too hungry and depressed to stay inside, he dragged me out to the car and bought me lunch at the shopping mall they'd put up a few months ago.  
  
Surprisingly, he's a very careful driver, even in my car, though I'd left my favorite CD back at the hotel.  
  
I decided on pizza, while Dais opted for an expensive-looking sandwich. I say expensive-looking, because it seems as if everything was laid on just right. I'm almost sure it's one of the ten-gil roast beef sandwiches they have over at the. . . Well, the sandwich place. Hell if I know the name of it.  
  
One thing you should know about Dais that no one gives him credit for, is that he's not afraid to buy the most extravagant thing in the store while dressed like a bum. He's not concerned about his image, in other words, and he'll do anything for quality, and yet he's far from one of the fatcat snots up at ShinRa. Shockingly, I respect him.  
  
He takes a giant bite from his sandwich, glancing around at others as he swallows it. I didn't change my clothes since last night. Black jeans, white shirt without sleeves, hair frazzled, no coat despite the oddly-cold weather. Dais has shed his Devil jacket for the day as well, dressed in heavy dark red jeans with straps running across the back of the knees, and a thick, knit, black sweater, with holes where he puts his thumbs out. And, as always, his sunglasses he says he's had since he was very young. Nightclub attire.  
  
Dais is looking back at me with mild interest when I come to reality again. He lifts a brow. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were checking me out." I fling a pepperoni at him and it sticks to his forehead. He crosses his eyes, looks up, peels it off, and eats it, wiping away the tomato sauce in a moment. "Look, I know what's gnawing at you, and I'll say what I have to say on it. If I had a guess, I'd say whoever has Aeris has no intention of harming her. If anything, it's ShinRa trying to lure you into the open for a clear shot. With Reno and Cloud on it, I don't think you'll have any problem."  
  
I look at him strangely. Calm, cool advice from a man who shoots security without breaking a sweat.  
  
Well, it IS better than drowning in depression.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
-=-=-=-  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Eleven o' clock that same night, I'm sitting inside my parked car, Dais in the passanger seat, looking up at the big neon letters on the building infront of us.  
  
Hellfire.  
  
There's no doubt in my mind, this is the largest gathering point of Hellions in Midgar. They probably bribed the Force -- police -- before they opened it, just so they could all come and discuss plans. Screaming girls for the band are outside, of course, begging to get past the bouncer. But these girls are pierced out the asshole -- literally to some, I'm sure -- and have tribe-like tattoos and paintings all over their bodies. Odd band, or odd fans?  
  
We get out of the car, and a few heads turn our way when we turn the engine off. The place has gotten a lot quieter. I'm sure some of them know my face, and I'm sure Dais is involved with their dealings in one way or another. I'd like to slit some of their damn throats, but I'll hold myself back. I look for the bouncer. He's not as big as I'd expected, but he's got that "don't fuck with me" aura. The one where you can almost feel the air shift when he flexes. Dais and I, with no word from any official -- just screaming chicks -- pass up the entire line and walk straight to the bouncer.  
  
Dais speaks first. "We're friends of Elmyra Gainsborough. You're being summoned for that task you said you'd fufill for her."  
  
It takes the bouncer a moment of thought to remember, but then he nods and flips his sunglasses into his messy brown hair. He has Mako eyes, or else he just wants it to appear that way. "Come find me after the show, I'll be standing out here waiting for my ride. We'll discuss business then," he says in a hushed tone, then waves us through to the inside of the nightclub.  
  
The band's set up already, but there are no members of it around there. There aren't many people here yet, either, meaning it must have just opened. The usual party-like lights flicker on and off everywhere, a shallow pit dug around the wall with fire shooting up from it once in awhile. Reno had called us earlier, knowing where the club was, and told us to watch our backs. He knew Hellions and how violent they could be even having fun in his early years as a Turk, and he knows how popular I am these days.  
  
I told him to eat shit and hung up.  
  
Dais slugs me in the shoulder and shoves me toward the bar. He's not aiming to get me drunk, but if we stand there looking at the set for the band, we'll look like dumbasses. I order a screwdriver for each of us, pay the bartender extra, and hand Dais his. About this time, as we walk for one of the booths along the wall, I look up and see the roof is completely glass. I jab Dais in the back of the neck and show him, too, as we sit down.  
  
He takes note of it, then slides his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. I sigh heavily and give up. "Alright. Everytime you see the sky, you do that. What the hell, is it some voodoo gang ritual?"  
  
Dais smiles and tilts his head back. His hair follows, rolling down his back like a log down a steep hill. He smiles, then laughs lightly, and looks back to me, eyes boring into my soul. "My parents left town when I was very young, leaving me with my grandmother. Well, they never came back and there was never another report of them, so I grew up with her. I would always run around with these same sunglasses on -- they were always too big for me until about ten years ago -- and one time we were outside in the garden and she scooped me up into her arms. She put my glasses just like they are now and told me something. She said to wear them like that at night, because it leaves just enough room to see the stars real clear.  
  
"Her reasoning was that in Midgar it was easy to get lost in the mix of good and evil, but if I always looked at life like that, shading out the bad parts of the city and keeping even the smallest view clearly on the stars, nothing could ever hurt me. Wear them completely up and the line disappears. People get confused when there's no distinction. You should keep that in mind."  
  
As if summoned, we simultaneously take a drink. I brood on that for a moment, and he just grins, as if he's fooled me yet again. We set our drinks down, and I give my opinion. "You're one psychotic fucker."  
  
He shrugs and takes another drink, then we both just laugh at ourselves. I stand up and walk toward the bar, Dais knowing what's up and not following. I look the tender sraight in the eyes and ask where the band is. He tries the old "We can't give you that information" bullshit, and I ask again, this time with a bit of edge to my tone. Deciding it's better to listen to me, rather than end up with a hole in his hand like the one I have in mine, he kicks his right leg back and opens the door behind him. I slide over the bar, nod a thanks, and walk down the hallway the door leads to.  
  
Putting on my best business face, I close the barman's door behind me and knock on the one to the band's room. Rustling, probably either hiding groupies or drugs, and the door flings open. A man with his hair -- at least one and a half times the length of mine before I cut it two years ago -- folded over to the left peers at me from behind it. Seems to me like he has it held infront of his eyes with some extremely good hairgel. He's wearing a very loose, white, jumpsuit-looking getup, hanging off of him like Old Man ShinRa's sweater would have hung off my daughter, no exaggeration. He looks me in the eyes with his own, beady and squinty , and I somehow know this is the guy I'm looking for. "You seem familiar," he rasps. His voice is soft, but like really strong sandpaper. It almost hurts the ears.  
  
I make it fast. "Keeve? Elmyra gave me your name."  
  
He stares at me from behind that length of hair again, then flips a business card into my hand, glancing around to make sure no one had seen it. On the back is a note that says to meet him after the show in the band room. I just nod. Someone must have told him I was coming. He closes the door and I turn around, walking back out to the bar and nodding another thanks to the man behind it. The fangirls are now inside, and it seems one of the better-looking ones has found Dais and taken my seat. Not to mention my drink. Face-painting bitch.  
  
I give him a two-finger wave, then jerk them across the club. He nods, subtley, and I walk over there, seating myself in a chair, close to the band's set but against the wall. I flip my sunglasses down over my eyes and begin my inspection. A few suits are in the corner, probably an allied gang looking around for rivals and troublemakers. One of them keeps glancing my way, and I recognize him, though barely. He was there when I shot their gangleader. The one with the rifle.  
  
I take a shotglass from some guy sitting next to me -- currently sucking face and exchanging make-up with his girlfriend, looking like a mashed beetle on the bottom of a flatbed truck's front tire -- and tip it to the man with a taunting smile, downing it and slamming it on the table. The guy I stole it from barely notices, because I leave him three gil in the glass. The guy I tipped it at snarls and turns his lip up at me. Good. Pissed the bastard off. I see him tapping his friends and pointing as I turn my head back toward Dais. He saw none of it. Too busy working on the girl.  
  
About this time, I really wish Aeris was still here. Standing up, I walk around the seats beside me and walk out the door, nodding to the bouncer as he gives the "You coming back in?" smile. I lean against the building and take a cigarette out of the pack in my pocket, lighting it up with the lighter I got when I became a Turk. I cross my arms over my chest after putting the lighter back, then take a long drag and even longer exhale around the cigarette. I smoke when I'm stressed. Right now, I could wrap my lips around a tree and be perfectly content.  
  
I look down the line waiting to get in. It's not too long, about twenty-five people, men and women alike now. At the end it something that makes my eyes go wide and the cigarette nearly drop from my mouth. There, standing in a big black suit, hair nice and looking like he's just come out of a new-man factory, is. . .  
  
"SEPH!!"  
  
. . .Mills fucking O'Donnel, straight out of the box. I haven't seen him since my last day at ShinRa, and haven't heard a thing on him since. Haven't been reading the papers lately. Only panic and depression in black-and-white to ease the blow of reality. He's lost, by eyes' guess, over a hundred-and-fifty pounds, and looks much more respectable. I have a feeling he dropped the lisp, too. Still has a lot of weight on my skinny ass. He hurries past the line, just like I did. The bouncer doesn't look twice.  
  
"Mills, long time no see. And you're looking great. What happened with you?" I ask. He gives me a wide, shiny-toothed smile. I can tell he's either really excited to see me or this is a good story. Probably both, so I take another drag and listen to him.  
  
And the lisp, apparently, is long gone. "Well, after Old Man Palmer died of a heart-attack, they went looking for a replacement" Oh. . . "and put an ad in the paper. You went in, had an interview about how much you knew about the Space Program, and they said yes or no to you." . . .my. . . "Well, I guess I know a lot more than they thought, because a week after the interview, the promoted me to the Head of the ShinRa Space Department!" . . .God. The fat man had it coming. "Of course, they cleaned me up a bit, but I've been on it for a year. Here tonight to work out some protection deals with the Hellions."  
  
I had never expected to see Mills O'Donnel as one of the most respectable men in Midgar. In good spirit, I give him a handshake and a sincere smile. As annoying as he was, he was indeed one of the most loyal people I'd ever talked to. "Well, man, congratulations and good luck with the negotiations. I'm with the band, though, so I've gotta run inside." I hear the girls screaming. The band must have just come out.  
  
He gives me another Mills-Loves-You smile and says thanks, then I follow him inside. The band is just saying a few words about how glad they are to be back in Midgar. They've been playing clubs in Junon for the past four months -- now I remember, I went to one of their first shows as a Turk to offer them bodyguard services via order of Rufus, but they refused, saying their did their own bodyguard work. Speaking of... I glance toward the table where the suits were, Mills headed for it. They're still there, all except for the guy I was being oh-so polite to earlier. And he's nowhere to be seen.  
  
Am I wrong to have a bad feeling? I think not, unless he's in the shitter.  
  
Just before the band starts up, I hear Dais' unmistakeable whistle from across the club, not catching anyone else's attention in the crowded place. I turn my head. The girl he was making "friends" with earlier is still there, seated on his lap now -- he'll give her one night of blinding pleasure and leave her naked and cold in the hotel hallway tomorrow morning if anything for some useless street scum to oggle at -- but he's beckoning me over. I put on my "Guess what I just did!" smile and stride over casually.  
  
He looks confused as hell as I sit down -- dammit, nothing to drink -- and then looks with those questioning eyes to the band. I follow said eyes, and just in time to see all the lights in the club go out, besides the fire ring around the walls. The band's set lights up in neon colors, and blacklights come on from the ceiling, and some from the floors, under the triple-pane glass the club-venturers are jumping around on in anticipation. I basically look at the drummer, Keeve, who looks like a giant lightbulb with lime-green drumsticks and a purple set. I see the reason for the jumpsuit. I just nod, knowing what he wants. The band looks as odd as Keeve, dressed as loosely as he is for the most part, all with hair about three feet long and made into the oddest forms.  
  
To make it short, the band sounded like shit, the vocalist anyway. His voice was too trying, like he was a machine singing out nonsense phrases only said to make you think. I have about two more drinks and some small-talk with Dais and his new friend in the time it takes them to perform the whole set. Dais himself downs three Mideel Ices -- a margarita with a twist, renamed with that twist kept a secret -- without seeming like he feels it. The bitch hanging on him has about four vodkas and can barely see straight.  
  
Christ. HOJO could drink more than that.  
  
And then the songs end, the band gives a final "Thank you, Midgar!" and they're headed back to their little room behind the bar. But it's then that the first scream of someone having a gun comes out. Keeve, mostly, spins quickly and draws a derringer from his pocket in his jumpsuit, holding it out stiffly toward the scream. Dais and I are up instantly, leaving paint-girl on the floor wondering why her head hurts. All havoc erupts, and the drummer pushes his way through thr crowd to end up next to us, all three of us now with our guns out.  
  
Soon the club is almost-fully cleaned out, and it's the three of us holding measley handguns at three Hellions, two with rifles and one with what looks like a crowbar. From this distance, it could be anything, though. I'd been checking out the club after I'd irritated that guy, and I know that with a good second of sprinting, we could vault over some tables and dash straight out the door.  
  
I bolt.  
  
I hoist myself off of the stairs going up to the outer lip of the club, where all the booths are, and land on a table, shattering a glass that I came down on wrong. Not even landing fully, I leap to the next table, but that one slips from under me and I just barely jump enough to land in a roll on the other lip of the club, right next to the door. I roll on my shoulders and fire a shot at one of the men with a rifle, clipping him in the knee, and then I get to my feet and dash out the door. From the shouts behind me and my voice recognition, I know Dais is behind me, but Keeve is unknown. For all I know, the second voice is a Hellion.  
  
Dais has caught up with me by now, and grabs my neck, lightly tossing me toward a jet-black pickup truck with a tarp over the back, something large beneath it. He passes me and rips off the tarp as he goes by, throwing himself gracefully into the open window and into the cab. Hey, where's my car... I briefly wonder this, then I leap into the back of the truck, Keeve rolling over the hood to get in the door Dais threw open from inside.  
  
Lucky for me, under the tarp is a mounted gattling gun, looking fully-loaded and brand-new. The Hellions have gotten in their own cars and started them up, both as white as snow and looking powerful from even here. My comrade starts the engine and we roll out, into the major part of town. Through the open window connecting the cab to the back, I hear Dais asking Keeve directions, the quickest route to the hide-out. The drummer knows the place, and tries to give him coherent directions.  
  
Tries, because behind us the cars have just rounded a corner and out of the sunroofs are two men with their sub-machineguns. Shit. I start blasting away with the gattler, but the two duck inside and the cars seem to be bullet-proof. I try to aim for the windshields, but it's hard to miss the civilians going through the central part of a Sector. We go for about five minutes of this, myself getting hit by one bullet in the shoulder, not at all aiding my gun problems, and then I become aware of Dais shouting at me to grab this.  
  
Apparently, "this" is the shell of a high-powered missile that fits easily into the gattler. I grin as I load it in, ducking low and avoiding the shots from the Hellions. We're blowing through traffic, Dais eternally holding down the horn to alert people to pull over. One shot, just one shot. I look behind me, which is infront of the truck, and spot a tanker truck just ahead, moved to the side because of our excellent road-rage.  
  
My shoulder better not be too fucked up...  
  
"Speed this piece of shit up, Dais!" I cry, turning the gun sharply and mentally chanting my mantra -- no pain, no pain, there is no pain -- and read the side of the truck as we pass, going about ninety-five in a residential area with very helpful people. Junon Propane. Dais obeys and shifts or something and the truck pulls ahead just enough. I wait for the cars to get just behind where the truck is, and then fire at it.  
  
The image of the bright white flash, the searing heat, and the blue flames and explode into the night sky, sending glass and debris high into the air to rain down upon the high-level executives for almost a day, will be forever burned into my mind. The Hellions are found the next day in their mass of twisted metal with no identification marks on them. Only the three of us know who they were. The truck leaves, for the love of the Cetram a crater where it was, that too blown high into the air, and almost all the houses and buildings around it are torn apart instantly. Somehow, it just speeds up the truck, though I do hit my head and crack the glass behind me. Over one-hundred will be reported dead tomorrow morning on the early news, broadcasted Planet-wide. The faces of Dais, Keeve, and I will be shown with a high amount of gil for our capture, too.  
  
Tonight, I cry myself to sleep on my cot in the cold, abandoned bathroom. 


	7. Café Faust

Author's Note: Well, that was a refreshing little hiatus for me, and now I can hopefully get back on track with this and some other stories of mine. By the way, I've been using the Café Faust for about a year or so now as an original place, so don't expect to remember it.  
  
Sidenote: Alright, this has bugged me too much to let it go. I know some of you may be thinking that I'm stupid, there's no way these guys could do all this without being arrested or something. Well, you're right, but it's my AU story, and I'll do what I want. Nyah nyah.  
  
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Silver Rose 2  
  
by Reno Spiegel  
  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
  
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March 8, 3078  
  
Mid-Morning. Stall Three. Abandoned Bathroom. 10:59 A.M.  
  
.  
  
"So, Rufus is that egotistical. I suppose this is a good sign for us, though." Jinaisim, Café Faust  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Okay, so I lied about those last two parts. In all truth, we stayed up and drank as a mild celebration last night. I was just trying to sound like I cared about the explosion and its victims. Apparently, as Reno tells me, the reason they're not asking for clues but saying they have no information on the "criminals" is that ShinRa likes to handle its own matters. And yes, this means they're pretending they have no idea who did it.  
  
Oh, well. Their loss.  
  
Reno had found information from the small apartment complex across the street from the hotel two nights ago that Aeris had been taken away in a sleek-looking car, most likely a relatively new model of a sportscar. It had been dark, so no one can give him plate numbers or a color, but anyone watching agrees on what it looks like. New. Streamlined. Fast. I'm going over there later to do my own search.  
  
Reno, currently, is shaking me awake while I realize my massive hangover, however.   
  
I try to curl deeper into the blankets, only to remember I'm on a fucking cot. Yeah, that explains why it's so cold. It's about now that Reno punches me in the neck, and I roll over, ready to fire out and hit him. Problem is, I seem to have rolled straight onto the floor. Well, my eyes are wide open now. When I go to look at him, my eyes snag on the fact that there's no movement in the other half of the bathroom, but a lot of snoring.  
  
Seems they're all asleep.  
  
Reno just lifts me by the collar of my vodka-stenched trenchcoat and forces me to look at his hand, beckoning me to follow him. He helps me to my feet, then turns on his heel and starts walking, looking half-way to decently-clean. In other words, damn spiffy for Reno Drannor. We're walking right over all the passed-out people -- Jinaisim, Dais, Cloud, Keeve. Mark and Turner are no longer with us -- and out the door.  
  
Reno leads me up a ramp in the parking complex we're in, all the way to the top. I look around and see a, more or less, telescope at one of the edges, including a manual -- probably for it -- and a few bottles of water. Reno's more than likely been up all night doing shit, as I know he slept while the rest of us were out last night. Truth be told, he's done more work than the rest of us. I hear morning doves still, the sun high and bright, burning my newly-opened eyes. Damn, I need some coffee.  
  
Reno points silently to the telescope, held in place with a vice he somehow rigged up, with this look of grim regret in his eyes. What the hell? I walk over cautiously, but hear no steps following. Nearing the edge, I see it's aimed at the apartment complex, so I bend down and look through it.  
  
I want to vomit at what I see.  
  
Clearly written in a red substance on the window it's aimed at is a jagged, deep message, just three words I never want to setmy eyes on again.  
  
"Hello, Little Professor."  
  
Reno's voice shatters my jaw-dropping shock with his first words. "We can't get a warrant to search it, and since that place is tight as a drum, we can't just barge in, but I'm leaving this here so we can watch whoever that is. I saw a shadow or two last night, while that message was up. He knows we're watching him, or her, for that matter, and he or she doesn't like it. Hopefully, no one has an urge to park in an abandoned, condemned parking lot."  
  
It's true. There are holes on every floor of the place, and as far as I can tell, the elevator has been out of order for a good year. I assume it had at one time been used for the apartment complex we're spying on, but there's another one on the other side, leaving this one to decay and nothing more. It's no secret, now I'm desperate to know who's in that window over there, and as soon as I find my voice, I turn to Reno and ask, "Do you think they have anything to do with Aeris?"  
  
He gives me the look. Now, Reno has three looks. Casual, drunken fool having fun, and "you know the answer and I don't want to let you know you're right." Guess which one he's giving me now.  
  
I shake my head in disgust and brush past him, having stood up and walked to him by now. There's one bit of comfort I can take from that message, however. Not the fact he or she knows who I am and who I'm related to, sure as hell not the fact he or she knows where I am, but the fact that it's only written in red marker. After all, blood runs. This was set there. Planned. Not slopped on.  
  
I'll take care of him, I tell myself as I start walking back toward our little makeshift headquarters. When I get back, Jinaisim is sitting there muttering to himself, scratching his head, and looking very confused. Back turned to me, I reach into my pocket, pull out my pen, and throw it at the back of his neck. Dead-aim. He whirls around, eyes wild and prepared to fight, then smiles in his hungover way and waves at me shakily. "'Eeeeeya, Seph."  
  
I can't help but grin back. "G'morning, Jin. Up for some breakfast?"  
  
-=-=-  
  
"That complicates it a bit."  
  
Jinaisim and I are sitting at a cozy little café I used to come to when I was a kid. Once a greasy place with undercooked burgers, the bitch who used to own it is now a kindly old woman with a basket of free cookies on the counter. She minds her own business, generally, and this place is usually empty around this time of day. Mainly, it's a family spot for dinners.  
  
We pause in our discussion as the old woman drops off our breakfast, a giant plate of bacon for him and a few slices of toast for myself. I ask for a refill on my coffee. In her own, wrinkled way, she smiles, nods, and walks off with my cup.  
  
"We got a call from Cloud last night. He said he went all the way to Kalm and hasn't found a trace of her yet. I should probably call and tell him to haul it back here. I'll do that now, acutally," Jinaisim murmurs as a final sentence of the breakfast. He pulls out his cellphone and begins to dial, but something's wrong. I don't get a chance to see it, but out of the corner of my eye, I get a glimpse of a figure rushing by the window. I lower myself in my seat, just before the door flies open, a man skids around the corner, and opens fire on us.  
  
Jinaisim's phone goes first, and he dives for cover quickly. I saw enough of the guy to tell that he's a SOLDIER, probably one of the higher ranks, too. He appears to have a gun that fires on its own, because even when the splinters of wood fly over us, Jinaisim and I having flown under the table by instinct, the shots keep coming.  
  
When he finally runs out, he cautiously makes his way around the table, thinking he must have hit us by now. Bad move. Jinaisim, great with a handgun and always carrying one, shoots out from underneath the table and sweeps his leg up, catching the man in the wrist, then firing. Three shots, one to the trigger-finger, one to the left knee, and a final to the chest, all in the span of about two seconds.  
  
I stand up, my coat tearing on a loose nail but being the last of my worries right now. Jinaisim's rubbing his temples and has his eyes closed, the SOLDIER -- turns out it was a woman -- clearly at the end of her life. The old lady was apparently taken down somewhere in there, because she's sprawled out over the counter, and we look like two dumbstruck cows.  
  
I reach over and grab Jinaisim's plate. Silently, we both take a piece of bacon and chew in thought. Suddenly, my companion feels an odd need to smile. "Hey, Seph."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"We can call this self-defense." He turns to me and grins. I shoot him the nastiest look in history, turn on my heel, and walk out. He follows. Later, in the papers, ShinRa will give a tribute to the old woman, who of course died of natural causes, and mention nothing about the shots. Jinaisim takes the van back to headquarters while I start off toward Hellfire to pick up my car.  
  
I'm strangely calm to notice, when I get there, that my ashtray has been emptied, particularly of the three-hundred-gil stash I keep in there, a usual thing in Midgar. Otherwise, nothing else seems to be messed up. Then again, the CD player was only one-hundred, so I'm not surprised they didn't take it. I put the key in the ignition, and it turns over without a problem, the regular hum of the car vibrating through it.  
  
The music doesn't kick on this time, being as how Dais drove it last, but I don't mind as much as you'd think. Putting it in reverse, I back out of the Hellfire and start the route back to headquarters, the one I know by heart. It's not too far, just a few minutes, and then I'm back in the parking garage, but after looking to see that I have half a tank of gas left, I notice something's wrong.  
  
Reno, Jinaisim, and Dais are standing outside the bathroom door, Cloud leaning against the corner behind them. Keeve doesn't seem to be in sight, which isn't a problem immediately, but the next thing I take note of is the black ring of fabric around Reno's neck.  
  
His stealth-mask.  
  
I get out of the car and Jinaisim holds up his assault rifle, the one his father gave him when he came back from the Wutai/ShinRa War. But it's Reno's grim face that delivers the message.  
  
"They're sniffing too close, Seph."  
  
I look at him strangely. "What do you mean?"  
  
"...We're doing this. Tonight."  
  
My blood freezes, but I know he's right. ShinRa has to fall today.  
  
.  
  
Author's Note: Yep...we're drawing to a close on Book Two. In a few chapters, anyway. I apologize for the length. 


	8. Preparation

Silver Rose 2  
  
by Reno Spiegel  
  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
  
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March 8, 3078  
  
Afternoon. Parking Garage. Abandoned Bathroom. 1:22 P.M.  
  
.  
  
"We've gotta go pick up a friend first..." Reno, Headed to ShinRa  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Half an hour ago, I was told by Reno Drannor that our raid on ShinRa would be tonight. I can't object to his reasoning, though; they're sniffing too close to us to postpone this any further. Keeve had to leave, saying the tour had to continue, ShinRa or not, and they had turned a deaf ear before shoving him out the door and calling him a traitor.  
  
It's been kind of quiet since Jinaisim and I came back, even from the former, who's usually the loudest among us. Cloud and Dais have been playing backgammon -- they found a stock of old games in Cloud's hotel room -- for a few hours, both eerily silent. Jinaisim, having worked his ass off for a few days now, is asleep on one of the toilets, his snoring really getting to me by now.  
  
Reno, sporting his reading glasses I've never seen him use, has delicately been working on the explosives, right in the middle of all of us. If one blew, we would all burn and die, probably even before the lot came down around us, but we trust him too much to tell him to take it outside.  
  
And for myself, I've been sitting here staring at the wall, having assembled all the guns at my feet within ten minutes. I could help Reno with the explosives, maybe even go watch Cloud and Dais' slow match, but I just stare at the wall, as if I think that it's going to open up with all the answers to success.  
  
A sudden "Shit!" from Reno, short and small, makes us all tense for a minute -- even himself -- but then he goes back to his tinkering and we relax again. Of course, Jinaisim just snores.  
  
Well, it's a very small extent to which we trust him.  
  
I glance over and see his progress is going quickly. He's got three briefcase bombs as of now, small plastic explosives, and a large one he's working on. We intend to take the truck up to the building on the train tracks, and when we're finished inside, plant that in the bed, put it on auto-pilot, and let the beast go through the front doors to knock out the foundation.  
  
Another one of Reno's reasons is that the annual SOLDIERS' Ball is tonight, where almost all of the elite task force is out dancing and having a good time. Therefore, the only protection ShinRa has will be a few SOLDIERs, Rufus himself, and the rest of the staff. The only person that worries me is their newest Turk leader, who is rumored to be quite the man with a longsword, but I haven't caught a name yet.  
  
No matter, the Masamune'll pick the bastard off without a problem.  
  
Reno smiled and assured me that, with a man we're picking up on our way tonight, we'll have no more problems.  
  
Our original plan was to do this in three days, but tonight should work, or so I assume. There are many underlying things here to do, such as deliver their coffee stock. Cloud is going to be dressed as a worker for the company that stocks the vending machines, and take in their coffee, a brand from Wutai called "Feng Shui Summer," and one that basically runs the market when it comes to mocha and cappuchino.  
  
What we're doing, however, is putting a bit of chloroform in their coffee grounds, particularly the ones for the night workers. And so, we should have a bunch of sleeping guards watching the surveillance system, thus allowing us a clean run through to the top floor, minus the few SOLDIERs, clerks, and receptionists.  
  
We're hoping the new Turks aren't there yet.  
  
The second thing to do is to have Dais wheel Reno -- disguised as an elderly woman who keeps her head under a big sunhat and hunches over because of her osteoperorsis -- in through the lobby to get inside the actual building, and it has to be Reno because the drinking and chain-smoking has given him a rough enough voice.  
  
Once inside, they're going to open fire on whoever they can in the lobby so they can take out anyone coming from above or the main door, a job Cloud will help with when they call him on the two-way.  
  
Once the building is secured from there, Jinaisim and I will, with the grappling hooks I almost dropped at the bombing of the side stairs, launch ourselves straight to the fiftieth floor elevator and ride it up from there.  
  
They forgot to take our 50-70th Floors employee cards.  
  
Idiots.  
  
"Seph."  
  
I suddenly look up. Dais, in the middle of a move, is looking at me with that stony gaze. "You should try to sleep. Relieves the stress. Besides, in dreams, the worse that can happen is a nightmare. Out here, we could all go up in a ball of flame."  
  
Reno looks at him bitterly and snorts. "Hey, these glasses may show that my eyes are getting bad, but I've got the steadiest hands here. No worries while I'm around." This is usually the cue in a good action movie for the bomb to explode, but that's like a nightmare, and that's only when we sleep.  
  
Cloud is nodding slowly, but I'm not quite sure what to, even when he mutters something and takes his own move, some silent look of victory sweeping over his face. I never knew how to play that game, so I don't know what just happened. It's only when Reno seconds the comment that I should sleep that I stand and walk into the room with the cot, even as he tells me that it's going to be the biggest night of my life.  
  
The thing that pains me is that Aeris may not even be seeing this night.  
  
-=-=-  
  
When I'm woken up, it's by Rude, who I now realize has been gone this whole time. Reno mentioned something about him doing some work with his family tree or something, but it must have skipped my mind.  
  
He grins at me. "Forgot I was here, didn't ya, Punk?"  
  
I roll my eyes and sit up, rubbing my side. "Maybe if you spoke up a bit more, you'd be missed a bit more, cold bastard."  
  
"Aww, that's no kind of a greeting to give the guy who's going to make tonight work."  
  
I bite back a smile. "No, but it's the kind of a greeting to give a guy who routinely fucks up breakfast because he failed home-ec three times over." I give him my best sing-song voice when I crow out "Preeeeheeeeeat!" and he socks me hard in the chest, still smiling.  
  
"Why'd I need to get up anyway?" I inquire, moving my hand up a rubbing my chest, hard. Guy packs a punch, that's for sure.  
  
He jerks his thumb toward the main room. "We're taking off in twenty minutes or so. Reno wants a word."  
  
I'd known it was something like that just from the way he was tensely speaking, but his eyes catch a second glance from me, and I nod seriously, standing and brushing past him. I slept in my coat so I'd be ready to go, and I -- by habit -- pick up the Masamune as I walk out. Game-time.  
  
I find Reno outside smoking a cigarette, watching Dais and Cloud in the back of the truck while Jinaisim is behind the wheel, doing everything he can to bring it on the edge of either tipping of exploding. Reno doesn't talk to me immediately, but he does hand me a cigarette, lighting it without looking in that way only he can, flinching when the truck tips up on two wheels, stalls for a moment, then sets back down...only to have Jinaisim shoot it forward again.  
  
"I met Jinaisim while I was in the Turks, before you signed on, Seph. I did undercover bodyguard work for him, even saved him from that Kala bitch a few times. Guy grew on me like one of those songs that never really gets out of your head from the first time you hear it, y'know? Like...I never thought of him as a friend, but soon we were out at the bars, doing karaoke together, sometimes winding up the next morning in the same bed." He gives me this look.  
  
This look to take it as he says it.  
  
"That lousy prick, though, he grew on me as much as I grew on him. Soon, after I got over Tseng's death -- don't look at me that way, it's not like that -- I think I fell in love with the bonehead. Klutzy bastard that weaseled his way into my life, then never really left. He lived with me while the Dreams were on tour. Didn't know how small of a world it was, did you?" His voice is soft, like an orphan just recalling fond memories of his real parents.  
  
He smirks. "But, enough about who I'm fucking, this's about who you're fucking." I feel Rude twinge behind me, and I do the same, something that seems to only make Reno's smile widen. "I still haven't found anything about Aeris, but my guess is that she'll be somewhere in the ShinRa Building, more than likely in Hojo's secret lab."  
  
I know the one; Hojo has this clusterfucked room atop the building disguised as a ventilation shaft. He keeps his best specimens in there. Or, rather, kept. I take a drag from my cigarette and nod. "Yeah, I had a feeling."  
  
"From the research Rude did --" Yeah, that's where he was. Researching Hojo and Reno's friend. "-- Hojo's specimens are still alive and well, and available on immediate command. And these are little fetuses with three fingers, these are the big ones they keep locked in the basement. I've seen these fuckers, they could swallow Rude whole.  
  
"And that's why I just told you what I did. Tonight, I may be the only one dead, the only one that comes back, or we all could be dead. Infinite possibilities tonight, that's no secret. But there's one of Hojo's you're going to meet...and you won't be pleased, I know that for sure. He's the Turk leader, and he's damn good from what Rude tells me. I can't really say anymore...because I know you'd want to stay behind."  
  
As if the conversation is over, he walks away. I don't call him back. If it has Reno spooked, it's as bad as he says it is, if he's not just softening it up for me. He stops the truck with a wave of his hand and leans in, saying something to Jinaisim, then backs away as the ex-husband of my personal metal goddess spins it around and puts it in reverse until they get to the bathroom doors.  
  
Dais and Cloud hop out and the three disappear inside, then emerge a few seconds later with the large bomb held between them, muttering -- probably "Keep it straight, dammit" -- as they go about it, but they finally get it loaded onto the back and throw a tarp over it.  
  
I walk back inside, passing Reno and Jinaisim as they hustle to get the explosives ready, and, glancing back, I finally realize how dark it is. It must be at least eight-thirty, half an hour into the ball. I pick up as many guns as I can, Rude taking what I can't grab, and walk back outside, past a murmuring group -- Cloud, Dais, and a newly-arrived Jinaisim -- huddle over the large bomb, discussing any flaws they see.  
  
I take the guns and load them into the trunk of my car, only leaving one assault rifle on the dashboard for Jinaisim, who's riding with me, and putting the Masamune in a sheath I sewed onto the side of the seat.   
  
Just as I pull back from the car, someone punches me in the arm. Just as I figured, Jinaism is standing there, decked out in camo. I point at him lazily. "We're not going into the forest. We're actually going somewhere quite the opposite. What the hell's with the camoflauge?"  
  
He gives me an even look, serious all of a sudden, then flips out the Turk shades he probably swiped from Reno, puts them on, and poses. "Makes me look good." He turns around and bends down, wiggling his rear end at me. "Don'tcha think, Sephy-kins?"  
  
I plant my boot firmly in his ass and he rockets up with a yelp, but both of us crack a grin and chuckle.  
  
I've come to accept these guys as my family for now. Reno's the brother to argue with playfully, Jinaisim's the uncle that never seems to leave, Rude's the tag-along friend of Reno that no one really minds, Cloud's the one we all pick on, and Dais is the older blood-brother we look to for advice. We never really said we were a team, but we've grown together. As they say: When forced together for prolonged periods of time, a bond shall form between two or many hearts.  
  
It's about this time that Reno accidentally slams his finger in the door of the truck, then opens it and pulls it out, hopping around and swearing up and down.  
  
Well...klutzy hearts they may be...but we still love that guy.  
  
When we're all standing there, Reno biting another finger to even out the pain, Dais claps his hands and jumps in the bed of the truck with the bomb, sunglasses still on, and gives us a strange grin. "Let's roll!" 


	9. Beginning of The End

Silver Rose 2  
by Reno Spiegel  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
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March 8, 3078  
Night. Midgar Streets. Sephiroth's Cougar. 9:01 P.M.  
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"Irvine K., super-sniper." Irvine, ShinRa Building  
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Jinaisim and I are sitting in my Cougar when we get the first radio call from Reno in the truck, three blocks behind us so we don't look suspicious.  
  
As if.  
  
Mako Dreams is playing in the background. Jinaisim admits, he likes the music, just not to fond of the one who sings it.  
  
I understand him.  
  
Reno's first transmission, from the radio on the guns placed between us, is shaky due to the fact he's in the bed of a truck. "You're gonna see a house with a big iron cross hanging over the door. Pull in the driveway and around the back of the garage. He should be sitting on the steps. If he's not, radio me immediately."  
  
In about two minutes, we come upon the house. It's a two-level shack, really, with the iron cross hanging over the door. I follow the instructions, but there are no lights in the house. I hold my position for about two minutes, then reach for the radio.  
  
It's not there.  
  
I turn to see what Jinaisim's doing, then I see the gunbarrel pointed at me. I start, then it lowers and a man with long, brown hair and a cowboy outfit -- no, too real to be just a costume -- smirks at me. "That's two minutes past Reno's usual "immediately," kid." After handing over the radio, he stretches his hand out to Jinaisim, then me.  
  
"Irvine Kinneas. Old drinking buddy of Reno's."  
  
We introduce ourselves, then he gets in the back and starts polishing his gun as we pull out of the driveway and start moving again. I glance at him in the mirror. "So, Reno never told us... What's the plan with you?"  
  
Irvine just smiles. "Never disclose that kind of information to someone who I only know the first name and face of. Just keep moving, buddy. It'll all work out."  
  
I don't argue with him. Reno's contacts don't usually talk much, especially Dais, though we both knew him. Rude, though, never really talks. Jinaisim talks when he's mouthing off or getting down to business. I suppose I never got the pattern before.  
  
I check the clock on the radio. Right about now, Cloud is arriving at the building with their coffee grounds. In fifteen minutes, break will end and everyone will go back on shift, so they'll be itching for some caffeine. Nighty-night, guards. Shortly afterward, Reno and Dais will enter the building through the front doors, wipe out that floor, and call Cloud down.  
  
Then Jinaisim and I will launch into the elevator, no matter what floor it's on, and ride to the top. If we're lucky, Rufus will be in his office, oblivious to what's going on seventy floors down. If he's not, we go to Hojo's lab and see what he'd been cooking up before he died. Once we take him out...if we do...I suppose we blow the building.  
  
Unless Reno has other plans.  
  
As soon as we're close to the building, the truck speeds past us and screeches into a parking space. They must have decided the guards passed out on the stairs were sign enough they didn't need the ruse, because Reno, Rude, Dais, and Irvine all scramble out of the truck -- former -- and the Cougar -- latter. Reno is screaming into his radio for Cloud to show up as soon as he possibly can, and Jinaisim and I just sit there stunned.  
  
He whistles. "Well, bit more effective than an old woman in a bonnet."  
  
I open the door and take my Masamune from under the sheath, then toss the blanket off the bulky grappling hooks in the back. Jinaisim follows my moves, taking a shotgun from under his seat, and we wait for the elevator to rise up to the fiftieth floor or above. It seems to be there already, so I nod to my partner, take careful aim at the glass -- not bulletproof, so we think twenty-pound metal hooks at well over the speed of an average car can get can do the job -- and fire the hook. He does the same, a bit above mine.  
  
Lucky for us, they hit just where we had planned. I hit the red button on the side of mine first, and suddenly I'm airborne, not able to resist the urge to cry out a long "YAHOO" as I speed toward the glass, to which the hook is lodged. Reno never gave me the specifics of the design, but my ascent slows about a foot before the glass and I jump forward, through the hole I'd made. After dropping maybe ten feet, I hit the floor on my side.  
  
A wake-up call to my shoulder, but I'll live. In ten seconds, Jinaisim is on top of me.  
  
"I retract that."  
  
He looks confused and makes no effort to move. "What?"  
  
I frown at him. "Get off me, fatass." After complying, we stand up and throw the hooks back out the elevator "window," then he swipes his card through and, surprisingly, the elevator recognizes us.  
  
"I'm going to stop at sixty-five and make sure it's all clear. You go up and deal with Rufus," he tells me. Something's strange about his voice, but I ignore it. The night is moving too fast for me to consider everything that comes up. The elevator chimes when we reach sixty-five, and he dashes out, calling good luck back to me.  
  
I hit Executive Office, which will take me to floor sixty-nine. Up one flight of stairs and I'll be in Rufus' office. I reach the level with no hassle. The lights are all dimmed and the offices appear to be empty, with no signs of struggle, so I figure they went home for the night. Light pours down the crimson stairs, so I think he must still be up there.  
  
The Masamune is in my hand automatically, and I raise my heels from the tile floor. Stealth. Moving quickly, I dart around desks and go up the carpeted stairs. The handrail, however, has streaks of blood all along it, and I doubt this is a good omen.  
  
Upon hitting the landing to the office, my grip on my sword loosens and I break out in a cold sweat. One leg propped up against his chest, the other straight out, and slumped against the front of the desk, is Rufus ShinRa. His eyes are devoid of most life, though he's still sputtering at no one, and looks highly amused to see me here.  
  
Despite the dagger he's twisting round and round in his own stomach.  
  
"Glad you showed up," he rasps as I draw closer. The man barely has enough energy to do this. Shooting me or something of the like is out of range of this guy's abilities. Surprisingly, he likes to talk even as he dies. "I woke up like this, about half an hour ago. Since then, I suppose you could say I've been...twiddling my thumbs."  
  
"Rufus..." I feel some final moment of sympathy for him. I was supposed to kill him. He turned up dead. "Who did this?"  
  
He shrugs lightly and spits out blood. His eyelids shudder for a moment, then he opens them wide and looks at me. "No idea. Woke up here. Your...last payment...check...chair...not me..." His voice crackles once, and he makes some gurgling sound, then nothing. The dagger falls limp.  
  
"Check chair. Not me." I repeat it, then walk over to the chair, which has been pulled this way, and is facing away from me. My "last" pay had been a sack of gil. I expect a midget with a machine gun to be sitting there, the the dead President jumping up and yelling "Surprise!"  
  
What I get is, you could say, a fuck of a lot worse than a midget blowing my brains out.  
  
What I get is the mutilated corpse of my wife.  
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.  
Author's Note: I will be taking no questions about this chapter. Ask me and I will change the subject on you. Just know that there are no smoke-and-mirrors this far in. And I'm not trying to be cheap and get out of writing for awhile; this story is, in all honesty, my baby, and I wish it could go on until the world burns up in the expansion of the sun. But, yes. Straight-out honesty here. 


	10. Final Act

Silver Rose 2  
by Reno Spiegel  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
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March 8, 3078  
Night. ShinRa Building. Executive Office. 9:37 P.M.  
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"Rufus didn't do it..." Mystery Soldier, ShinRa Building  
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I think the reason I'm not concerned is because I think this is all a set-up to get me vulnerable, but my mind still races. It looks so much like her, this frozen look of shock on her -- to be blunt -- sliced-up face. Her entire body is streaked with bloody cuts, and she's propped up in the chair like any normal person.  
  
But I turn from that, to the door leading to the roof. I want to see Hojo's lab for myself. Keeping my body -- slightly shaking but still telling myself this is all a big mind game -- to the wall, I look at my reflection in the long window. Creeping along the wall, looking horribly unbelieving, suit flapping out behind me. My Masamune is still gripped in my hand, but in my suit I almost look innocent.  
  
My hand reaches for the door, and I start to turn the knob. My gut suddenly wrenches to hard that I think I'm going to die, as I realize something that dies on my lips.  
  
"I'm not wearing my Turk s --!"  
  
Just to prove me right, my reflection kicks down the door from the other side, taking the hinges clear off. He smiles dementedly at me as he walks through the door and grabs me, too stunned to react, by the throat. His smile is one of pure evil. "Amazing what the Professor can do with DNA samples taken when someone drops a bucket on your head "accidentally," isn't it?"  
  
Everything comes back to me. Rude, disappearing without a word. Reno having moved so far in a seemingly short amount of time after the empty bucket fell on my head. The way everyone sounds nervous when they talk to me. Everyone's been playing a game with me, and they're trying to kill me.  
  
My clone throws me forcefully against the glass behind us, and it cracks thousands of times under the strain. He keeps talking to me. "The Jenovan offered his own cells. Cetra plus Jenova gets me, a hellspawn that could take out the Wutain army by myself. I'm the only Turk we need here, Sephiroth. You're fucking obsolete."  
  
He raises the Masamune to my face, looking like he wants to end it with a simple jab, but no one knows the sword like I do. I tense my throat up and lift my own sword, flipping it in a position that would be uncomfortable if not for what I'm aiming to do. I swipe toward his arm, and he drops the blade to pull it back. He makes the mistake of letting me go to bend down and pick it up.  
  
Nothing like an original model, baby.  
  
I leap over his back and spin to my left, bringing my sword down with enough force to shatter concrete. He meets it, and sparks shoot off from the clash. We both fall back into stance, and he's still grinning wildly. "Rufus. I made him kill your wife, you know." He rolls up his sleeve, dropping his guard, but I don't take the opportunity. On his wrist is a bangle with a yellow Materia orb in it. "Manipulate," he hisses.  
  
I growl at him and bring my sword up at an angle. He side-steps and meets it with his own swipe down, which I take the force from, pinwheel my arm, turn the sword in my hand, and bring it directly downward on him. He crouches low and holds his up. They clang loudly as they meet, but there's still no fatigue on either side. He doesn't even sound winded. "After two years, I fully formed and made my way out of the lab, so they fired you and your four friends."  
  
I manage to swipe quickly enough at him to throw him off-balance and shut him up, so I continue doing so. He's slowly backing up, out the door, and almost to the edge of the rooftop when he ducks low under my Masamune and ends up behind me. Throwing off his blazer, his wings unfold, just like mine. His are white, however. Everything is moving so fast I can barely think, but I don't need to in order to know to extend my own wings and take to the skies.  
  
About thirty feet from the rooftop he catches up to me and we go at it again, just a flurry of motion with feathers literally flying everywhere. His eyes are wide and he's still sputtering about "Master's master plan" and how he made Rufus kill Aeris. I'm starting to doubt these are just mindgames now, but all I see is a ball of steel with the two of us dancing on the outside of it, stroke for stroke, parry for parry, jab for jab. No one's moving an inch.  
  
Finally we part, and I notice we're both panting, flapping about fifty feet above the building, but both with the intent to kill the other. This clone is the last living form of Hojo on the Planet, and that's reason enough for me. Reason enough to make it feel the pain of pains. For killing my wife. For forcing Rufus to kill himself. For being of Hojo's creation.  
  
Something rises from deep inside me, and I speak in an ancient language that I couldn't remember to save my life. On the other hand, my clone is doing the same, just in what I'm absolutely sure is Jenovan tongue. My vision goes milky, but I still see a blue aura encase him. I still don't know what I'm saying, but I know that we both finish at the same time and energy blasts from each of us to the other, forcing the inevitable clash of power.  
  
We're both blown back by the combination, and it feels like I'm being flipped backward for an infinity. From what I can see -- which is a lot, because I'm flipping so rapidly that it all comes in clear -- the power clashed, mixed, and thrust downward. All of the floors from what I guess to be thirty and upward explode in a hellacious ball of fire, smaller explosions following that.  
  
I finally stop rolling when my wings catch still air and I force myself upward. Surprisingly, the clone recovered even more-quickly and is flying toward me, unarmed. I take a moment and realize I've also lost my Masamune, but then take off for him. Our fists hook out, and we're roughly ten feet away from each other when it happens.  
  
A look of shock comes to his face, and a milisecond later his head explodes in a crimson waterballoon. He immediately begins to arc to the ground, and I turn to see him explode in a mess of gore when he does hit it. I look around, and someone whistles at me. Even from this far up, I can see Jinaisim with his rifle out, and I free-fall most of the way down to him. I notice Reno, Cloud, Rude, and Dais with him as well, in a circle of rubble.  
  
I set down on the ground, and I'm about to ask a question about how it went when the same whistle sounds from a few feet behind us. Then I remember the plan to kill me, the DNA transfer that created what I just destroyed, but I turn around anyway. Irvine is standing there, gun raised.  
  
"Hey, Seph. You wanted to know my part in this?"  
  
And then, I suppose, it all went black.  
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-Fin  
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Author's Note: There it is. The end of Silver Rose. I suppose I should apologize profusely for those expecting a multi-book series with frisbees and coffee mugs, and yet I like how it was. A build-up to a climax, a falling action, a semi-resolution, and then nothing. I'll probably post a giant extra section tomorrow or something, but for now, I'll leave you all with this, my favourite quote, to sum up the story.  
  
"When a writer digs a hole, the reader's dirt is alway more fertile if they should fill it in themself.  
There is nothing after the end, and the most absolute end is death itself.  
If you want to hate a writer, then you will. If a writer wants to to hate them, then you won't." 


End file.
